


Wanting, Waiting, Waiving

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Friendship, Post-Sirius in Azkaban, Romance, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2006-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on the "heterosexual" challenge - after more than a decade of waiting, Sirius is shocked to find Remus a married man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wanting, Waiting, Waiving

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

"Lie Low at the Lupins' pLace."

Dumbledore's sentence keeps on turning in my head. Lie. Low. Lupins. so many L's. it's hard for my doggy brain to work around a sentence like that. it's not that i don't think as i always do, at least, not exactly - but when i'm in this form, i think in pictures and sounds and smells instead of in words and sentences. i know what a sentence means when i'm spoken to, but i feel it more than i hear it. the sounds are garbled, though the meaning is clear. and a sentence with too many letters that sound the same is confusing.

Lie. Low. at the Lupins' pLace.

the Lupins.

Lupin, as in Moony.

too many L's.

and something about those L's is very disturbing.

Lupins.

not Remus' place.

not at Lupin's

the Lupins' pLace.

for some reason, i feel like howling.

**the** Lupins... 

+++ 

The lights of the city shown brightly that evening, almost as pretty as the stars, in their own way. It was so tempting for one night, one single night to pass without the thought of the dark that crept upon them all, the ever-threatening glare of the snake, slithering silently towards them on its path of destruction. Though there was no safe spot in all of England by now, the lights of this as of yet peaceful muggle city were so tempting, luring them to forget, for just a couple of hours, that life as they knew it had ended.

None of them knew that it would be the last time for all of them to meet in harmony. None of them knew that these would be the last, final moments of peace they would have with each other, before mistrust and fear would drive them apart.

It was Sirius' birthday at midnight, and at the same time it was Remus' farewell party, for he had accepted Dumbledore's task of recruiting werewolves and other so-called 'dark creatures' to the fight against Voldemort. He would be gone for several months, not able to visit his friends since the Order demanded strict secrecy. No member was allowed to know about the progress of the other's tasks, as a safety measure against treason, and though none of them could imagine one of their group to betray them, they knew that the measure was necessary.

So, for this last occasion to meet in the near future, they had decided to visit a nearby muggle town, party until the morning, and then prepare for long months of separation. James and Lily would be doing the networking, since Lily's present state did not allow her to venture into dangerous spaces and James could not, even for the sake of the Order, leave his beloved wife in this time of need. Thus, they would be the main core of the operation, directing and monitoring the other's tasks.

Peter would be responsible for the research part - he wasn't the cleverest or wittiest of their group, but Peter had a special talent none of the others possessed - he could blend in. And that was a prime requisite for the part he had to play. Be it a gathering of ministry officials or a party amongst housewives, Peter had the talent to bring himself into any conversation, not really noticed, and overhear whatever was being said. Above that, his general shyness and ability to listen to others instead of speaking himself gave him a trustworthy aura, which made him the perfect researcher.

Sirius, on the other hand, would be taking on quite a different role. Mingling with witches and wizards from every place in England that was even remotely seedy he would try to infiltrate the Dark side on a direct approach, risking his life but also giving them a blasted good chance against the dark if he did indeed succeed.

And Remus would seek out the werewolves, vampires, hags and centaurs of England, being the only one from the Order they would trust.

But for this single night, all these tasks were put aside, thus making way for some cheerfulness in these dark times... 

+++ 

I remember that evening as if it were yesterday - our cheerful laughs, our carefree attitude, knowing that the times for innocence were over, but also knowing that we needed this last party before we departed to fulfill our individual orders.

I remember Lily, her tommy swollen, so beautiful, her auburn hair framing her lily-white skin, laughing and joining in the laughter, telling some of the rowdiest jokes herself, so pretty, so very, very pretty...

James, pride shining in his eyes, hands softly engulfing Lily's stomach, smiling brightly when he felt the thrusts of his lively, unborn son...

Peter... it still hurts to think about him as he was then. Was he already selling information to Voldemort at that time? Or did he only start later, after beginning his research work? Was his friendly joking and his merry conduct a farce, even then? The way he eyed James with unshaken admiration? The way his eyes shone up when Lily let him feel the soft kicks of her son by putting his hand on her lower abdomen? The way he and his long-term girlfriend Joyle talked about having kids themselves one day, when the war was over and Voldemort finally defeated?

Shaking with the memory, I take the final steps up Remus' porch, having already turned back into my human form.

The knocker sounds so loud in the still darkness of the new moon night. Minutes pass, and no one answers the door. Didn't Dumbledore write to Remus to inform him I was coming? Then, steps, on the other side of the wooden door, sudden light flooding me... and then I see him. Remus. Illuminated by the light from the small entrance, he stands there, more beautiful than ever despite the deep lines around his eyes, his yellow-green eyes sparkling with emotion, his hair, grey, but still so soft-looking as it frames his face...

"Sirius," he utters simply, then I find myself in a tight embrace with my best, my only living friend. "Sirius."

For a moment we just stand there, holding each other tight as if grasping for dear life. Seconds become minutes, and minutes become years as for the first time in ages I feel warmness flooding my body, utter happiness at being reunited with the person I love more than I have ever loved myself.

Then, after a time, we separate, and he eyes me with watery eyes, which shocks me for some reason. Remus never, never cries!

"It's so good to **see** you again, my friend," he manages, through a shaky smile. "You look good." The months in the Caribbean sun have tanned my skin, and I've regained weight since we met at Hogwarts. I've even taken the time for a bath in the ice cold water of a nearby river - cleanness has become an obsession with me.

Then, in the light of the hall, I can make out the form of another person, and my heart sinks.

"Hello, Sirius. Remember me?"

Joyle. Peter's girlfriend from the old days.

"Joyle Watson," I answer, numbed.

And she's smiling. "Lupin, nowadays. Joyle Lupin."

Someone has put a string of barbed wire around my heart, and has just pulled it very, very tight.

"Of course."

I don't know what I expected. Can't even figure out my own feelings, or why this development should hurt me so much. Had I reckoned that Remus would have remained Lone Wolf, so to speak, for all these years? All, perhaps, on account on one, single, small event during a drunken night? 

+++ 

The small muggle nightclub was filled with laughter as Sirius and Remus chuckled about some prank they'd played on the Slytherins during their time at Hogwarts. None of the teachers had ever recognised him as such, always being reserved and calm as he was, but Remus was one hell of a prankster. He'd come up with some of the most devious and well-thought through acts of mischief they'd ever committed.

Peter and Joyle were snogging in a corner to their hearts content, and James and Lily were sharing some moments of tenderness in another, planting soft kisses on each other's lips. Quite like when they were all still at Hogwarts, really, but they all felt somewhat young that evening, and - at least for Peter and Joyle, since Jim and Lils had remained sober all evening - the alcohol took care of the rest.

Suddenly, Remus halted mid-sentence, casting a look at the clock the other side of the bar. "Hey, it's your birthday in one minute's time."

"No fair," Sirius cried in mock-accusation. "How comes the birthday boy doesn't get a kiss when everyone else does?"

Grinning, Joyle separated from Peter to plant a large, smooching kiss on Sirius' lips. "Happy birthday, dork," she laughed as the clack hand moved to settle on the top. Her kiss was followed by a gentle peck from Lily, and a scorching kiss on the mouth by James. Sirius smiled, as James gave him a good-natured pat on the back. Peter's mouth stood agape.

"That was... Prongs... that kiss was with /tongue/."

Lily laughed. "Gosh, Pete, who better to deliver that request than the guy who gave Handsome here his first real kiss when they were twelve?"

Remus shifted uncomfortably, as Peter hugged Sirius in a very non-commital 'I hope you don't expect me to kiss you, too' sort of way, then changed his mind and pecked Sirius very shortly on the cheek, muttering "Happy birthday".

Sirius turned to Remus, beaming, then slid further up the bench in his friends direction, finally straddling the smaller boy, thighs touching firmly where their legs crossed, Sirius' arms around Remus' neck.

"What about you, Moony?" he smiled slyly, shifting yet closer towards his friends lap, "you have a kiss for the birthday boy, too?"

For a moment, Remus sat there very still, not moving least he cause any friction between their two bodies, then he firmly planted his lips on Sirius' mouth, slightly parting them invitingly. Sirius slowly exhaled his breath, then, after nibbling experimentally on Remus' lower lip, he let his tongue glide in between his friends' soft, inviting lips.

The kiss was like none other than either of them had ever experienced, almost-visible sparks lighting up between them as they deepened the kiss, bodies shifting closer as to annihilate even the last bit of space between them. Remus sighed as Sirius moved his right hand to the other boys neck, leaning in even more if that was at all possible, left hand firmly placed just above his right nipple. His own hands were slowly, uncertainly moving to encircle Sirius' waist, trying to minimise the space between them yet further, the fabric of his muggle jeans causing a tantalising friction with Sirius' leather pants. Remus felt his lower body lighting up with blazing fire, then, as Sirius gently thrust his crotch against his own for a split second, the feeling of hardness against hardness, his small gasp of surprise echoed with Sirius' low moan.

All too soon, it was over, as they breathlessly parted to the wild cat-calls of their friends.

"Holy Shit!" Lily exclaimed, eyes wide. "That... you should do that more often. On the other hand, if you two don't separate from each other immediately, I'll do it. Arousing a woman in her late pregnancy like that, knowing fully well I can't have sex at the moment. Really."

A little self-conscious, Sirius removed himself from Remus' lap, thankful for the thick fabric of his pants. "Sorry, Lils," he grinned, not looking sorry at all, then twinkling at James, who sat opposite from him, mouth open. "Better close your mouth there, Prongs old lad, before the winged part of the vermin population decide it attracts them."

"You. Sly. Old. Dog. Lils is perfectly right - you're a bastard, Sir. While I know you're not a bad kisser, I'd never have thought that the sight of two blokes... well, never mind." He blushed furiously. "Anyway, I think we have to be going - meeting with Dumbledore early tomorrow morning."

With many hugs, James and Lily made their department, shortly followed by Peter and Joyle. Finally, for the first time after their kiss, Sirius turned directly towards his friend, who was still sitting on the bench rather stunned.

"Hey, Moony..." he said, softy. "Everything okay?"

For a moment, he thought the other boy wouldn't answer, then he heard Remus' soft chuckle. "James was right, you know. You **are** a hell of a kisser."

"Aw, don't feed my ego too much - I could burst. You're not too bad yourself - whoever taught you to do that, that thing with your **tongue**?"

Now, it was Remus turn to blush scarlet.

"Let me guess? Violet Parkinson, your charming charms partner in fifth year?"

Dully, Remus shook his head.

"Hm. Maybe Marlene O'Flaherty then, the Irish girl you told us about, from summer camp?"

Again, Remus shook his head.

"Well, don't let me pull it from your nose..."

"I've never been kissed before." The words had come rushing out, combined with a yet darker shade of crimson on the boys cheeks.

Sirius regarded him with amazement. "Well, I certainly wouldn't have thought." An unpleasant moment of silence settled between them. "Listen, Rem, I, um, I hope you're not, well, taken aback or anything. I mean, I... um. Shit. I mean, this doesn't have to change anything between us, right? Um, unless you wanted it to, but I'd perfectly understand if it was just a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing just then, so..."

"I'm not gay," Remus interrupted him softly.

Sirius' heart sank, but he managed a small smile. "Well, I never said you were, as I said, a spur-of-"

"No, you don't understand. I'm not gay, but that kiss, well, you know, I was aroused, and I..."

"Yes?"

"Well, right now, I feel like I could enjoy doing something more with you, if you wanted to, that is, but I'm not sure I could go through with it. I need some time to think."

"You have all the time you need." Sirius got up from the table, offering his friend a hand. Then, very quietly, he added, "And if you ever feel like you would, you know, like to, you know... I'll be there, waiting."

They left the nightclub together, finally hugging each other tightly before departing in different directions. 

+++


	2. Two

The tight silence that has settled between the three of us is finally broken by Remus, using the very clichéd age-old British cover-up in an awkward situation.

"Would anyone like some tea?" 

"Yes, please" I answer, just in tact with Joyle's "I'd love one, dear."

Dear. I know my reaction's childish - I should be glad for Remus to have found someone to love and to hold and who'll do the same for him. In a way I am, of course, because I wish my old friend only the best, and if he can find that with /her/...

But at the same moment, I feel awfully jealous, and hurt, and rejected.

Intellectually, I know I couldn't have expected Remus to remain single all his life just because of one kiss we shared, more than a decade ago. I can't blame him, or even Joyle (though I'd like to...). Somehow, I'd just imagined Remus would be living alone. Rather selfish of me, actually. The poor werewolf, rejected by everyone, never having found love or acceptance, then, finally, the arrival of the fairy-tale knight, who eases all this suffering and pain - myself, obviously. I should feel happy for him. I should congratulate him. I should... but it tears my heart apart to even think about it, about them...

"Let's sit down in the living room," I hear Joyle's voice, as if from far away, and only then notice that Remus isn't there - probably in the kitchen, making tea.

I follow Joyle's light steps into a middle-sized room containing a sofa, two comfortable looking armchairs, a small glass table and long rows of bookshelves containing any and all sorts of literature, from muggle fairy-tales over arithmetic treatises and history books to a couple of novels and three rows of books entirely made up by encyclopaedias and similar reference books, and make myself a seat in one of the armchairs.

Joyle and I regard each other silently for a tense moment. I know of nothing I have to say to her, and I guess she doesn't want to hold a small talk conversation. We'd known each other for years before my imprisonment, but we were never close friends - to her, I was Peter's friend, and she was his girlfriend to me, nothing more, an enjoyable person, but no one who took up a special role in my life. And it's kind of hard to hold a conversation with me, nowadays. I know nothing about fashion, music, cultural developments or anything modern, and it isn't exactly a casual question to ask, "how was Azkaban" or "well, I imagine you suffered much, there," or "Fine day for having been on the run, now, isn't it?"

Thus, we sit there in tight silence, waiting for Remus to return. Finally, it seems like ages since he departed for the kitchen, he does, three cups of tea floating through the air behind him. With a flick of his wand, they gently glide down on the small table, not spilling a drop.

"Thanks," I mutter, as Remus sits down on the sofa - next to his wife.

God, it's so hard to even think the words - his wife.

Sipping on my hot tea, I avoid looking at them.

"Well," Remus finally breaks the silence, "here we are, then. Gosh, this is really awkward. You'd think we'd have loads to tell each other after so long, but..." his voice trails off. But, I silently, continue, there isn't much to tell, really, is there? All I've seen in the past years is my cell at Azkaban, and the random places I've been to while on the run.

"How's Harry?" Joyle asks, finally, and I bite back the comment that it's none of her business. After all, she's just trying to be polite, I guess.

"Okay, regarding the circumstances. It's been a hard year for him, and all, but he seems to be taking things well. I wish I could be there for him, though, instead of being reduced to sending him letters."

"You will be, Sirius," Remus softly replies, and I finally allow myself to look at him when I feel the touch of his hand on the back of mine. "One day, you'll be free to be there for him."

I can feel a large clump forming in my throat. Oh, God, please don't let me cry, please don't let me break down now, in front of her, please don't let me loose control, please don't take your hand away... But of course, he does, and I'm left feeling suddenly cold and isolated, despite the warm fire in the fireplace.

"Could I..." I manage, still fighting to keep my voice calm. "Could I take a shower, perhaps? I'm feeling kind of dirty after the trip."

"Of course," Remus nods, somewhat thoughtfully. "I'll show you the bathroom."

Following Remus up the narrow spiral staircase, I breathe a sigh of relief. How am I supposed to survive the following weeks, perhaps even months, if I can't even sit down with the two of them for a cup of tea?

Halting in front of a door, Remus turns around to look at me. "There's the bathroom. I'll bring you some towels and some fresh clothes in a minute. You can put yours in the dirty clothes basket, I'll be doing the laundry tomorrow. By the way, the toilet's downstairs, next to the opening hall."

"Thanks," I nod, then open the door to the bathroom. It's small, containing only a basin and a shower stall as well as the aforementioned basket and a small wooden stool. Discarding my clothes in the basket, I step into the narrow shower, turn the tap on and wait for the water to warm up.

The feeling of the hot water on my skin is wonderful. I can't even remember when I had my last really hot shower. Probably the morning before being sent to Azkaban, that day when...

Slow sobs start creeping up my throat, I don't even feel the trail of the tears on my cheeks because the water keeps running down my face, and my surroundings are replaced with flashbacks to that dreadful day...

James' face, still, his eyes opened wide, glassy eyes, no longer soft hazel but dull - I remember looking around for his spectacles, because James can't see without them, finding them shattered on the floor...

Lily, her arms protectively wound around her year-old son, her skin so white, and I remember thinking that it now really represented the flower she was named for, white as innocence...

Harry, so young, so lost, playing with Lily's soft red hair, not comprehending the situation, but knowing something was wrong as he uttered "Ma..." over and over again, pulling his dead mothers hair since that had always brought a reaction from her before, blood on his forehead...

I feel the cold tiles of the wall against my head, the needle-sharp droplets of water, I hear the strangled sound of my own sobs but the world is twirling around me, a mad circus of colours and sounds and echoes of the past engulfing, drowning my mind...

And suddenly, the feeling of something warm and wet and strong, arms around my shoulders, holding me tight, pulling me towards the source of the warmth, a body against my crouching form, I feel myself grabbing for the body in front of me, blindly trying to find something to hold onto, to pull me away from these images, these sounds that threaten to drown my own voice inside my head...

"Shhh," a strangely familiar voice whispers into my ear, "Shh, Sirius, I'm here. I'm here. You're safe."

Safe.

The word echoes in my mind. Safe. I'm safe. I'm safe with Remus.

The realisation of where I am draws me back to the present. I'm in the shower. In Remus' home. I notice the water that is still falling down on me, and finally open my eyes to the present.

"You're wet," I hear myself say, not quite sure where the thought came from, not quite sure the voice is really my own. "You got your clothes wet."

Remus smiles, then turns off the shower spray with one hand, still holding me close with the other. "It doesn't matter."

But for some reason, it does matter. Remus went into the shower to help me, and he got his clothes wet, and it does matter. I can feel new tears creep into my eyes and new sobs shaking throughout my body.

"I'm so bloody pathetic, and it's my fault you got your clothes wet, and I shouldn't be here, and it's my fault, and, and, I shouldn't be here breaking your peace, and..." Somewhere in my mind, I know that I'm not really making sense, but I can't sort out my thoughts, can't find my way through this whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me...

"You're not disturbing my peace, Sirius. We're friends, remember? And friends aren't just for the good times, real friends are most important in times of need. Always remember that."

I still can't think clearly, but the words are soothing, and familiar. From somewhere afar I notice we're standing in front of the shower stall, notice the warm feeling of cloth rubbing my wet body dry, notice my arms moving into the sleeves of some soft fabric of their own volition, notice myself being led into another room, supported by the strong arms of Remus, I notice my body yielding to the gentle prodding of his form, lying down on the yielding fabric of a mattress.

"I'll be right back, Sirius, okay?"

Then, the feeling of suddenly being alone again, not as desperately alone as before, but yet alone. And the tears that I cry now aren't uncontrollable tears of despair, not the assassins creeping up from behind when you least expect them, simply the release of pain held up inside for far too long.

I can hear the door open, soft footsteps coming towards me, prodding me up to a sitting position, then gently pushing me down again, the sudden feeling of warmth as a blanket is wrapped around me and a warm body slips under the sheets, wrapping warm, comforting arms around me, holding me tightly to the source of soothing consolation. Memories from so long ago, filling my head, a situation reverse... 

+++

Remus stepped into the dormitory quietly, as to not awaken the others, and almost silently made the way to his own bed, pulled the curtains apart, quickly creeping under his blanket, craving the warmth after the tiring and painful transformation. His body hurt, and his soul hurt even more.

Distracted, he did not at once notice he wasn't alone in his bed, though he instinctively let himself be pulled into the comfort and warmth the other body provided. Only after several minutes of silent embrace did he notice who the body belonged to, and only after several seconds of gathering his thoughts did he start questioning whether the acceptance of this comfort was right.

"Si... Sirius. You... you shouldn't have stayed up... I..."

"Shhh. It's alright, Remus. I want to help you as much as I can, even if it's not much at all."

"It's... it's more than I can ask for. More than you should. You shouldn't stay up, tomorrow's a school day, and, and," Remus felt tears welling up in his eyes which he quickly blinked back though it was dark and Sirius wouldn't see them anyway. "Am I so pathetic you feel the urge to take care of me? You shouldn't feel obligated..."

"I'm not feeling obligated. I **want** to help you, Rem. Friends aren't just for the good times, real friends are most important in times of need. Always remember that."

And bit for bit, Remus allowed himself to relax in his friend's arms, that night and every night following the full moon from then on. 

+++

The memory is soothing, yet, at the same time, it triggers another emotion... 

+++

As Remus fell asleep, finally overwhelmed by the night's tiring torture, Sirius still lay awake, his arms around Remus' body, his thoughts in guilty turmoil, as always when he lay beside his friend like this.

Guilty. Remus needed friendship and comfort, not the additional burden of a friend attracted to him, aroused by him.

Sirius' arousal was not the desperate, needy one he often experienced when thinking of his friend, not the painful arousal he felt when standing in the showers or sleeping alone in his own bed. It wasn't the urging of his anatomy, the burning craving of another body, Remus' body, it wasn't the raw, aching desire of the flesh that he felt when alone. No, this arousal, this desire was completely different, not so much bodily - he wasn't even hard, and thanks for that - but mental.

He **needed** Remus, as much or more as Remus needed him. He felt guilty for his own feelings, not so much for the feelings of desire, but for the thoughts these provoked. Full moon nights were so painful for Remus, and yet Sirius could never wait for the next, selfishly longing for the nights he could spend in his friends arms, egoistically yearning for this touch, as it was all he would ever have from his friend... 

+++

I suddenly find humour in the situation. Tears and silent sobs are replaced by soft chuckles that shake my body, so close to that of Remus, chuckles that slowly build up to laughter, laughter that is still tainted by tears running down my cheeks.

"Sirius?" Remus' voice, sounding concerned. Well, of course, he must think me mad. "Sirius, is everything alright? What's the matter? Padfoot?"

Between chuckles, the words flow out of me without much thought.

"It's just funny, is all."

"What?" Once again, I am nudged into a sitting position, and I dimly note the form of Remus in front of me, eying me concernedly, clad only in his briefs, and I notice my own body, the clothing from before gone - I hadn't even noticed being undressed - naked as the day I was born, body covered only by the blanket, the blanket which I'm sharing with Remus, and this thought provokes new giggles to rise up in my throat.

"Sirius! Sirius, what is? What is so funny you can't control yourself?"

I once read that tears and laughter taking turns within only a short period of time can be one sign of shock, or even madness, yet I cannot stop chortling at the ludicrousness of the situation, though it is hardly funny - though again, in a way, it most certainly is.

"Sirius?"

"Oh, it's only," I start, wondering at myself, and somewhere in my mind there is this tiny voice that tells me to stop, tells me that is **not** the right situation to tell Remus... "It's only, it's funny that I should have to have some kind of pathetic nervous breakdown just to feel you the way I just did, when I waited for it for fifteen years, even longer, for over twenty years really, only to find that I never would..."

I can sense Remus' gentle gaze on myself, and suddenly, the situation isn't as funny anymore, and the previously quiet voice inside me is suddenly so very loud, reprimanding me that it was right and the rest of me was wrong, and that I have just told Remus what I had sworn myself never to tell him, and in the worst of situations. If I hadn't been so foolish, fourteen years ago, perhaps I could have had a chance, even if perhaps only for a night, but now, with Remus married and me a broken wreck, that chance is gone, and even mere thought of it should have remained buried.

Feeling sobered from some kind of delirium, I open my eyes (which I hadn't noticed I had closed), and regard Remus with fear in my eyes, the same fear I had each and every full moon night after the transformation, the same fear I harboured throughout my school years, when I was alone in bed, and wishing I wasn't... Fearing rejection, fearing repulsion, yet needing to know.

But what I find in the gaze of my friend is only acceptance, and sadness.

"I..." Remus finally says, oh-so-softly, "I never knew. I never knew."

"Well, I never wanted you to know, and now you do, and I'm sorry. So sorry. Please, don't hate me, Remus, because... because... you're all I have left."

Warm arms, hugging me close, and a whisper in my ear, "I could never hate you, Sirius, I tried to hate you for far worse, and I couldn't. I only regret that I never knew."

"It wouldn't have changed anything, or only for the worse. I shouldn't have told you now."

A short silence spreads around us, though his arms are still holding me tight, then, again, an almost not audible whisper in my ear, "But it could have changed everything."

A quaver in his voice, a tremor going through his body, then the soft feeling of his lips on mine, closed, sweet, gentle, desperate, and to my shock I find that Remus is crying as tears that are not my own fall on my cheeks, my neck, my lips, a salty taste amidst sweetness as our bodies join as one in a tight, desperate embrace, as his lips are pressed so tightly to mine, as his body lowers itself on mine, pushing me back to the mattress, so-long-for craved warmth and weight, heat becoming unbearable as his lips part, his strong hands holding mine above my head as if bound. And tears, still falling on my face like the gentlest of showers, barely noticeable.

A kiss, as sweet and yet as hungry as it is short, then his warmth leaves me briefly only to return at my side, hands releasing my own, settling around me in embrace once more as we hold each other firmly, both of us crying as small children do, but silently, bodies shaking.

And finally, as tears dissolve, the gentlest of kisses from his lips to mine, and his soft whisper,

"Goodnight, Sirius."


	3. Three

I wake to the feeling of sunlight on my face and for a moment, I feel disorientated, before I recall where I am. Though it's not as bad as it was right after my escape - I used to wake up fearing I was still in my cell, ice-cold touch of the Dementors around me - I'm not used to waking up in human form, in a comfortable, warm bed with real sheets and real blankets.

And as disorientation fades, I recall the last evening, and what passed between Remus and I...

The bed is empty, I note with slight disappointment. And the world around me is suddenly lit with the bright flames of shame. I shouldn't have told Remus about my feelings, and I shouldn't have let myself be so weak, yield to him, accepting a kiss that would, could, never lead to more.

Sighing at my own stupidity, I get out of bed, noticing the small pile of clothes on the bedside table. Deciding I can't put facing Remus off for any extended period of time anyway, I get dressed and somewhat dejectedly head down the stairs and to the kitchen (after a stop at the loo which, of course, I had managed to extend to a couple of minutes). I'd decided against a shower - though the thought of the warm spray of water is inviting, it would only trigger memories of last night, and that's exactly what I /don't/ want to think about right now...

In the kitchen, I find myself greeted by a brightly smiling Joyle, who at once sets about to make me a cup of tea.

"Alright, Sirius?"

Trying to fight down the green-eyed monster within me I reply "Alright?" then take a seat at the kitchen table that is still laid out for a French breakfast - croissants, toast, jam and butter, and a boiled egg.

"Sorry for the meagre breakfast - I usually leave early on working days, so we really only have the FEB on weekends, and Remus went to the library early this morning. Said he had to look some things up for the book he's writing." She smiles at me again, placing a cup of tea, milk and sugar on the table. "I could fry sausages, though, if you'd like some, and I suppose we have a tin of tomatoes somewhere..."

"No thanks, the French will do fine."

Joyle sighs, then takes a seat across the table from me. And I sincerely wish she would stop smiling at me like that. It makes me feel even guiltier for imposing myself on their lives. Additionally, I want nothing more than to be able to hate her, but how can I hate someone for being friendly and in love with someone I love also? After all, it's not her fault I feel this way...

"How did you sleep?" she asks me, her eyes lit with genuine concern. Damn her.

"Well, I suppose. No nightmares. Sorry for keeping Remus from you, though." Darn it, and I had wanted to keep the conversation as far as possible from that...

"Don't worry yourself about it. Remus and I've been sharing the same bed for what, thirteen years now, so what's one night? I assure you, I survived the separation."

Too. Much. Information.

Suddenly, a thought strikes my mind.

"Didn't you just say you have to work on weekdays? It's Thursday, isn't it?"

"Well... I took the day off."

"You... um." I try to hide my discomfort by biting off a piece of croissant. Either she stayed back to look after me, or... "You and Remus... you don't... you're not... you don't have... kids... do you?" I manage to choke.

For some reason, Joyle laughs before shaking her head. "Not exactly. No. We do have Star, though."

For the first time, I notice the bundle of black fur hidden beneath the table as a head shoots up, ears picked. Surprised, I nearly jump up from my seat. The dog playfully imitates my gesture by leaping back a pace, front lowered, tail wagging. There's a decidedly roguish look in his dark brown eyes, I'll swear to it.

"May I introduce - Star."

Wondering at the name, I lower myself to the ground. Star's tail begins wagging furiously, his deep eyes still seeming to challenge, even mock me.

"We got him three years ago - or rather, he got us. Don't know where he came from, but we suspect he was set out to die by his owner, and somehow, he found our house and waited for us at the doorstep, I found him one morning when I went out to get the milk. He was only a puppy, then."

Joyle's voice washes over me as I regard the young dog. The young, black dog, reminding me so much of my animagus form. Star. Remus used to call me that as a joke, back in our school years.

Star suddenly jumps forward, bumping his nose against my knee, then leaps backwards again, an air of expectancy around him. I lunge. And miss. And lunge forward again. From the doorway, Star wags his tail at me, and I swear, if dogs can grin - and they can, actually - this dog is grinning like mad.

"Think you're clever, pup?" I shout, somewhat childishly, and before I know what exactly I'm doing, I'm chasing after the young devil, tail wagging behind me, out of the house as Joyle opens the front door - no doubt to prevent her home from being demolished.

Ah, freedom.

Barking in victory, I finally run into the side of the dog, softly biting his neck - not so much that it hurts, only to show him who the older mutt around here is.

With a small yelp, Star returns the gesture, and soon we're racing and scrapping like a pair of pups, playfully pinching each other, but never really hurting.

"So, you've found a playmate, Sirius."

Wagging my tail, I come to a halt. Remus.

"Thought you'd like him."

Back still turned to where Remus' voice comes from, I transform. And, slowly, turn around to face my best friend.

Standing right in front of me, a bundle of books under his arm, wearing that damnable lopsided grin that had made me want to kiss him ever since our early years at Hogwarts, face framed by soft, slightly curled hair the colour of dark honey.

"You called him Star."

"So I did, indeed."

"Why?" It's hard to keep my voice from trembling when looking into his amber coloured eyes, lit with amusement, and yet, a sadness that mirrors my own.

"He." Eyes never leaving mine, I can feel Remus struggling for words. "He reminded me of you."

"You thought I was a murderer, three years ago." I take great care in making this a statement, not an accusation. The evidence, back then, was crushing. I couldn't have expected Remus to believe me innocent.

"I still missed you. And I still..."

Voice trembling as I step that last bit closer to Remus I prod, "Yes?"

He regards me for a long moment, then sighs, turning away from me. "I still couldn't help loving you."

And with these words, Remus walks towards the house, where his wife is waiting, as I fall to my knees, shaking by the confession.

Star, who had obviously sensed the strained emotions between Remus and I, slowly taps towards me, dropping his head on my thigh. Stroking the dog behind his ears, I mutter,

"What a mess. What a bloody mess."


	4. Four

The feeling of soft toil under my paws, wind whistling past my ears, landscapes of black, white and grey rushing by, somewhat soothing in the scattered turmoil of my thoughts as I run faster and faster, trying to outspeed the thoughts that will not leave my mind, 'what ifs' crumbling my defences, eating at my soul as fiercely as the dementors back in Azkaban.

'What if' I had believed in Remus back then.

'What if' I had told him before.

'What if'...

Yet, futile thoughts, unfruitful. I cannot change the past, cannot turn back time. Cannot will these past fourteen years away, cannot challenge fate to correct her mistake, for it was mine alone.

"I still couldn't help loving you."

All those years? And yet, hopeless, thanks to my own stupidity...

"I need some time to think."

And I wanted to give you that time. I wanted you to come to me of your will and volition, not merely triggered by the endorphin-induced wanting arousal produced by your first kiss. "You have all the time you need."

Words spoken, words meant...

"I will be there, waiting."

... Promise broken by mistrust and fear. If I live a hundred years or more from now, I will never forget your face the day after the showdown. I will never forget my final realisation of 'how could I mistrust the one person who makes me whole.'

Why, why did you tell me now? Why after all these years, with **her** by your side. Perhaps... I could never forget about the feelings I have for you, but perhaps, if you hadn't told me, I could have buried them in the back of my mind, as I had done in Hogwart's. Come to terms with it, as soon as I regain my emotional barriers, shattered during the decade in Azkaban... There are tears on my face I never noticed crying. I can't have cried, because I'm in doggy form, and dogs cannot cry. It is raining. This is the first thing I notice of my surroundings as I finally come to a halt, panting heavily. I don't know where I am. It must have been raining for ages, because my fur is soaking wet.

To my right, I spot an abandoned work shed, obviously used by lumberjacks to staple wood. Shelter.

Once in the safety of the shed, I transform, always risky considering I'm a wanted man, but at least my clothes are dry after the transformation, and I can use magic to light a non-wood-burning fire - and after all, the chances that someone shows up here now are quite slim.

The smell of wood reminds me of the time we camped, right after graduating from Hogwarts, in some godforsaken place in Scotland. All of Gryffindor's freshly graduated witches and wizards, those wooden huts with their earthly scent, and of course the banisters of alcohol we'd brought along to celebrate - good old English scrumpy, donated to us for little money, courtesy of Mrs. Aurelia Black herself. There are advantages to growing up on a cider farm. The narrow beds we had to share there, two to one bunk. That night I got so arseholed I could hardly stand, just to numb the thoughts in my mind. That this could be the last time for me to share Remus' bed, as we would no longer share a dorm. No more regular sharing a bed after each full moon. My guilty longing for him to **need** me, because I needed him so much, and it was the one thing that set apart my relationship with him from those I had to my other friends.

Almost funny, that evening, in retrospect. Especially my bet with Lily, always the perceptive one. She'd noticed my attraction to Remus, though heaven knows how. She called it a woman's intuition, though I had the sneaking impression that it had something to do with that very illegal drinking night we had one summer holiday, when she'd discovered she loved James though he was still going out with some girl from Ravenclaw. Lils and I were practically neighbours down at summerset, and boy could that girl hold her bevvy. Drank me right under the table. Or would have, if there'd been a table up in the old hayloft at her parent's place.

She'd dared me to tell Remus, last day of camp. I didn't, of course. I was kind of preoccupied with retching my brains out outside the hut. I don't believe she ever stopped teasing me about it as long... as long as she lived.

Though I wonder. What if I'd told Remus back then? What if I hadn't tried to numb my nervousness with alcohol and had just set out and told him? Would he have understood, even back then? Would he have been able to... to love me? But then, he'd been so surprised, that time we kissed, so confused... would it have made any difference at all?

Is it the memory or the after affect of my run through the countryside? I'm suddenly feeling so light-headed... I should probably transform and put out the fire, least I fall asleep and someone finds me. God, but I'm feeling so weak, all of a sudden...

"Padfoot!"

Is that Remus' voice, so distant? A yelp near my ear shakes me to half-awareness at least, as well as the overly loud sound of ripping fabric.

"Sir!" Rough hands try to shake me to complete awareness. Can't he just go away and leave me here? Where did Remus come from so suddenly anyway? He can't have followed me all that way from his house, can he? I was running so fast...

"Sir, can you hear me? Open your eyes, goddamnit, you bloody bastard!"

Personally, I think that was a little uncalled for. What business is it of his anyway if I want to lie around here? Maybe die...

A sudden hard slap to my cheek, ringing unnaturally loud, leaving a dull, pounding sensation in my right ear, is followed by the feeling of hard pressure on my left leg, and then the tingling sensation of a spell.

"Did you want to **bleed** to death out here, you stupid prick?!"

Bleed?

Soft pressure on my wrist, suddenly gentle fingers shaking...

What does he mean, bleed to death? I'm not bleeding, am I? Soft arms around me, so strong, yet so careful... the world is in a blur around me, yet I can feel his body temperature, so hot...

Hot lips on mine, the taste of life... as if pure, sparkling energy were invading my body...

"What..."

"First aid."

Dimly, I seem to remember a Magic Medics lesson from school. Something to do with erythrocytes, and how only a trained medic with profound summoning knowledge can replicate them using magic, but triggering cell procrastination is easier, if you're willing to use your own life power...

But why should I suffer of blood loss? I can't remember sustaining a wound anywhere on my way here...

It is easier to think now, as the swindle and nausea I'm feeling subside with the gentle pressure of his lips on mine, not a kiss, more like a breath of life...

Slowly, I open my eyes, my gaze directly reflected by Remus' hazel eyes; those nut-brown depths sparkled with gold. I'd always believed these eyes could drown a man if he gazed upon them too long.

"Feeling better now?"

I nod, though I still don't know why I should have felt bad, only that I did.

"You scared me, Sirius. Surely, you could have fixed that blasted wound before slipping into shock?"

"Wound?"

"Of course, you prat. Don't tell me you didn't notice your thigh being ripped half-open!"

"Ripped open? Why do you..."

But he's right. A large pool of clumpy blood has collected next to my left leg. "How...?"

"You really didn't notice? Running right into a broken fence?" His voice sounds incredulous.

"How did you find me? Why...?"

"I thought I'd better go look for you when the rain started. I was afraid Star would loose your scent, because it was pouring, but... but then he found the blood trail, and..."

"Oh."

"That's all you have to say after nearly fricking **dying** on me? You really have some nerve!"

"'m sorry."

I can hear Remus sigh, then his arms enclose me once more, hard, shaking pressure that only hints at the feeling behind it. I really am sorry. Hadn't I sworn to myself never to cause him pain again? How had I missed obtaining such a large wound, anyway? Remus just said I was suffering from shock. Perhaps that was the reason? Or maybe...

Maybe a part of me had really wanted to die.


	5. Five

Warm arms enclosing me, longed shelter in the darkness. Remus arms around me, as the rain falls softly outside the small shed. That feeling, a wish... let this evening never end, let reality subside to what feels so **right**. Let us just be immortal, in one never-ending night together.

Velvet lips touch mine in a kiss so sweet, so gentle, almost... afraid. Forbidden pleasure, luring me into darkness. Memories of last night, distorted. We both cried so easily, then. But the tears of my soul won't well to my eyes today. Only sadness, unspoken by tears, mirages in both my eyes and his.

"Why?"

I hear the word, spoken by my own tongue, but it is so distant compared to Remus' form before me.

"Why what?"

"Why..." I swallow. I know that asking him is wrong, because I shouldn't force him to confront his own turmoil, not in the position I am in. Yet, how should I live, with that question unanswered? "You... what you told me earlier. Why? Why did you tell me at all?"

Will this darkness never flee? Will I ever be able to look into his eyes without seeing underlying sadness again? "I did mean what I said, you know."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

Silence. He is uncomfortable, I can tell, because he shifts away from me, and his eyes are pleading with me not to demand an answer. But, just as well as I would do anything else for you, my love, as well as I would walk through fire, confront hell and the heavens, just as well as I would die for you, I cannot forget what you said, and I cannot live with myself if it means never to receive an answer. If I can't have you, at least be kind enough to give me closure, the knowledge that it will never be.

"Do you truly love her?"

"..."

"Remus, at least give me the answers I need. Tell me you love her and could never wish for anything more than her love, and that I should just bugger off, and maybe I can."

"No."

"No?"

"No, I do not, not in the way you mean... I... I only ever loved one person, who - unintentionally - broke my heart."

"So. You married her."

He sighs, then shakes his head. His eyes are as dry as mine. We have both seen too much of life to cry in a situation like this. Last night... last night's tears were the emotions of fourteen years, bulked up, never shed, that came out all at once.

"No, Sirius. I married her because... I... I do love her. More than anyone else in my life, save for... It's just, James and Lily were gone, you were... and we thought Peter was... Suddenly, we were the only two left of our circle, and it was painful, and lonely. Being a werewolf, I never had any other friends, except for the lot of you. And Joyle... everywhere she went, people were telling her how sorry they felt for her, and how hard it had to be, but none of them really knew. Because, of course, everyone was so happy Voldemort was gone. So we spent almost all of our time together, for comfort, because we desperately needed a friend."

"You married for comfort? Friendship?"

"No. We married because Joyle was pregnant. And because there was no one else to wait for. And because we did love each other. Just not the way we had loved other people in our lives."

"Preg...?" The thought turns in my head. Pregnant? From Peter, or from Remus? And either way, what happened to the kid... I'd asked Joyle whether they had kids. She had...

"She inherited lycanthropy. Our daughter died before her first birthday."

"But... Remus, I'm sorry about that, I truly am, because I know that must have been so hard for you, but I **asked** Joyle whether you had kids, and she laughed. She laughed it off. I..." "Joyle may seem like a happy person, twenty-four-seven. In truth, she just knows how to mask her feelings. That's why she could survive the questions and the pain of loosing the one she loved. That's why she could welcome you with a smile when you came to our house yesterday."

"She..."

"Of course she knows. That's why we came together back then. She had lost Peter. And I... I had lost you. It was what brought us together."

"And now?"

Remus shakes his head yet again, as if to shake off a fly or a paining thought.

"My feelings since then haven't changed. Unfortunately, hers have. That is also the reason why I went in to see her before though I knew what I said must have struck you. She may act as if she didn't care, but me spending the night in your bed instead of hers pained her more than words can say. Whatever happened or didn't happen. She understands, of course, that you needed comfort. That doesn't mean she isn't unhappy about it." "Where... where does that leave **us** , though?"

I can practically see his face fall from sadness to expressionless, with a hint of 'I'm sorry'. And I have all the answers I need. He won't leave her. Whatever I hoped for all those years, whatever feeble hope it was that sustained me in Azkaban, it will never be. Because he won't leave her for me. "I can't, Sir. When Joyle heard about Peter... I can't be the one to hurt her even more with all she's suffered through already. And I know that sounds hypocritical, because you've been through Azkaban... but I **promised** her. I **promised** her I wouldn't leave her, that I would always take care of her, the day we married. And again, the day Selena died..."

"You never were one to break a promise, were you? I guess I have to accept that. It's one of the things I love about you, after all. I'm the prick who can't even stand up to what he says." An uncomfortable silence settles between us, the rain outside as loud as war drums as the drops fall heavily onto the roof of the hut.

"So. Are we going back, then? Don't worry, I won't lynch her for loving you. **That** would be hypocritical."

More silence, until Remus finally smiles a shaky smile. "I took Cherubim - our owl - with me when I went looking for you. I sent Joyle a message that I would probably not return before tomorrow, because I thought you would need medical treatment when we found the blood trail. And you probably shouldn't be using your leg until the wound's healed. I only put a stitching spell on it, and the healing magic will take a couple of hours anyway to completely close the wound..."

"Then stay here with me. Only for tonight. Not... nothing has to happen. I don't think it could anyway, even if I wanted it to, at the moment. Just stay with me? One more time?"

"... Okay. Sir... I'm sorry. I really, really am sorry about all of this."


	6. Six

Loneliness and loss makes us do strange things, actions we would, perhaps, never have thought of before. Perhaps it was loneliness that drove Peter Pettigrew to betray his friends and his lover, so many years back. Never sparkling and inventive like Sirius, always the first to think of a prank or jump into adventure, admired by so many for both his looks and his mind, never intelligent and brave like James, the pole in their midst, unofficial leader, the one you turned to when you needed problems solved, nor loyal and strong like Remus, bearing his terrible curse over the years, never complaining, yet opening his heart to others so freely if they needed help. Even his own girlfriend proved to be, or so he perhaps thought, on a higher level than himself, quick of mind and tongue, cunning in most forms of magic, and beautiful, which, in all honesty, no one would ever have described Peter as - though not ugly or plum, he had a certain plainness and clumsiness about him, and was certainly not handsome. Perhaps his own feelings of inadequacy, and the longing to be more, to do more, to have more power made him change his alliance so many years ago.

Whatever his reasons, it was his actions that served as a starting whistle for the chain of events to come, action and reaction, cause and effect that always follow each other.

Mistrust once planted, though maybe laughed off at the time, is as a festering wound, driving deeper and deeper the more one denies the possibility of its truth, until one day, it hits the bone, gnawing from inside at ones innermost beliefs. When Peter Pettigrew voiced to Sirius Black his suspicion that Remus could be the traitor, albeit not directly but by using subtlety, the one thing he was tremendously good at, Sirius laughed the matter off. But night after night he sat in his room, or lay in his bed, brooding, and thus the suspicion was founded, with the terrible results that started paying off one Halloween night, many years ago.

James and Lily Potter were killed by Voldemort, leaving their son Harry an orphan. Subsequently, triggered by blinding anger and wish for revenge on his friends behalf, Sirius Black was convicted to the prison of Azkaban to serve a life sentence.

The war in general, and that fateful night in particular, had left many victims, but not only those obvious and mentioned above. The people left behind, families, friends, lovers, were also affected, and left to loneliness and despair. Mrs. Gladis Pettigrew, widowed mother of Peter, had lost her only child, seemingly to death, and no honourary awards and posthumous medals could change the fact that she had been stripped off the one thing in her life she still cherished after her husbands death. Joyle Watson had lost her lover, painfully reminded of him every time she touched the thin golden ring on her finger. They had wanted to marry as soon as the war was over. And Remus Lupin had lost, though in a different way, the one person who had been able to plant himself firmly into his heart and soul, closest to him amongst his few friends. He had come to his decision only a few nights prior to the shattering events of the first of November, 1981. He would tell Sirius that he loved him, and try to make their relationship work, if Sirius was still waiting for him, as he had claimed to do over a year ago.

Loneliness leads to despair, and despair is a powerful if painful emotion, as strong as love or hate or passion. When Joyle Watson sought out Remus Lupin, to share their anguish and perhaps find comfort in one another, one thing lead to another. No one else, outside of what had once been their little circle, could possibly understand, so they largely distanced themselves from the outside world, waving off well-meaning visitors to Remus' apartment, which they now shared. The inevitable happened, and they tried to dim their pain in passion, though the thoughts on their minds remained the same. It was not an act of love, that they shared bed and bodies that night, nor even of friendship, but the desperate wish for oblivion, just a moment of forgetting how their world had crumbled around them. It happened only once, for they both knew in their hearts that they would never be able to truly forget. But, alas, as these things go, once was enough. Neither of them had thought to use protection that night.

It is well known that in these times in the wizarding world, it was not unusual for a parent to raise his or her children alone. Marriage no longer was a necessity. Yet it is also known that few if any people are immune to failure, and it is common, if unwise, to subconsciously try to use children as a means of mending ones wounds. Many a distanced couple has tried to save their marriage or relationship by having children, most often leading to disagreeable results for both themselves and their children. So it is, perhaps, understandable, that when Joyle told Remus she was pregnant, he asked her to marry him. Not out of love, both of them knew that, but to try and make a new beginning. He thought that if he had to care and take responsibility for a child, he could maybe stop focusing on the loss of his best friend, extinguish the hurt that the betrayal of the one he loved had caused him. And it is also understandable that Joyle agreed, though at the time she harboured only affection and deep friendship for Remus.

They got married, scarce a year after Voldemort's downfall. Their wedding night they spent not as any other couple in the bolts of lovemaking, but in each other's arms, talking, trying to mend. It was then that Remus promised his wife that he would not betray nor ever leave her, for he knew that was her greatest fear, to loose yet another person in her life. She kissed him warmly, and when this time they made love it was, though not the passion one harbours for a lover one desires, not tainted by the painful thoughts of those they had once been or wished to be with.

Their pain had not ended, though. Besides the thoughts of the past and the turmoil in their hearts, more hurtful events were to follow. Their daughter born to sickness and dying within a year. The death of Joyle's father, her only remaining parent. Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban, then still thought a criminal. And the truth, finally revealed, of Peter having being the traitor in their midst.

Pain bonds hearts together, and Joyle Lupin had long discovered her feelings for Remus had changed over the years. She loved him with the desperation that only deep loss and suffering can conjure, and with Sirius proven innocent, at least to Remus and herself, her deepest fear was to once again loose a person she loved. She knew he had promised her not to betray her, never to leave her, and she knew he was too noble a person to break his word. But sometimes, when she looked into his eyes, they were adrift far away, and she knew he was thinking about Sirius. Sometimes, when she touched him at night, he would gently take her hand, kiss it softly, and then regard her with silent apology in his eyes. Sometimes, when he slept and she could not, she would see his eyes flutter under the closed lids as he dreamt, and by his expression she would know that he was not dreaming of her but of Sirius, even before he whispered the name of his friend one night in his sleep.

That evening, when Cherubim brought her Remus' message, she sat in her armchair at the fire and cried as she thought over her impossible situation. Her impossible love.


	7. Seven

Warm arms encircling my body. The feeling of belonging, of being held safe. Tickling breath on my cheek, leaving the skin burning on the spot with a pleasant fever. The steady sound of breathing, in, and out, as the ribcage my head rests on rises and falls. The soft pounding of a heart beneath me, strong, never falling out of rhythm, like drum beats vibrating in my ear. The smell of rain and wood and fire, and over all that, the scent of him, unique and enticing. Somewhere, a bird is chirping, and the woods are alive with the sounds of myriad animals. A sense of peace on my mind.

I dare hardly breath, for fear of destroying this perfect moment in time, as it may be the last between us.

I notice his hand tracing my temple, stroking away a strand of loose hair, trailing from my forehead to the sensitive spot behind my ear, and I cannot help sighing softly, so quietly it might just be the wind, so gently he can choose to ignore it.

The breathing beneath me stops for a terrible second, and I fear he will pull away from me, afraid of even this small contact, no more than two close friends can share, yet all the more intimate. As he takes my shoulders into his hands and gently nudges me away, trepidation closes itself upon my heart. Even this most innocent of touches he will not allow me?

Tenderly, he lays me down on the ground, breaking all contact between us but for the two spots where his hands rest on my clavicles. His face serene as he regards me, his unperturbed glance almost breaking me, for the beauty in his nut-brown eyes, his face framed with hair that appears gold and silver in the moonlight and the flames of the fire. I close my eyes, for I don't think I can bear it much longer to see him so.

Ages pass, it seems like hours, where the only sounds to be heard are those of the woods around us and our shallow breathing, as if both of us are afraid to break the silence.

"Oh, well." Finally, a whisper, so hoarse it may have just been the crackling of the fire beside us.

Moments later, the feeling of soft lips on my own, and his body lowers itself on mine, careful not to put any weight on my wound though I feel no pain, thanks to a spell uttered by Remus earlier.

A poison so sweet as his kisses I have never tasted, as his lips gently trace my jawbone, nestling finally into the spot where my ear connects to my neck. I can feel his face next to mine, his shallow breathing tickling in my right ear.

"Sirius..." A moan so soft, so full of pain, I feel my heart go out to him, my only friend. "Sirius."

I do not answer, for I know he doesn't want me to. Once again, I wish this moment would never be over, I wish I could die at this instant, so that it might be the last thing on my mind as I leave this world.

His fingers, just the tips, gently trace a line from my left ear down my neck, following the path of the muscle down to my collar bone, then to the point where the clavicles meet, right below the Adam's apple, lingering there, setting my skin on fire. His hand, shaking, moves beneath the folds of my shirt, settling finally on the left side of my breast, pressure now firmer, and I know it is to affirm to himself that my heart is still beating. My breath catches in my throat as, despite my weariness and the wound on my thigh, the sensation of his touch sends sparks to my groin.

"Remus..." I whisper, suddenly afraid. I know he can feel my reaction to his touch, innocent as it is, and if I cannot have him, at least I want to retain this touch he is willing to share.

"Shh." His whisper, as soft as mine, right next to my ear. His lips tremble as they once again rest on my own, the gentlest of touches.

I know that words would break this spell, so I remain silent as our kisses deepen, as his fingers trace patterns and circles on my skin.

"Sirius," he whispers, once again into my ear, his voice stricken with anguish, but also hoarse with what I can only imagine to be desire. "Let me..."

I can but nod my assent. Perhaps this makes me guilty, for permitting something that Remus will most certainly regret later, but there is a spark of selfishness in each and every one of us, and as much as I wish to save Remus from pain, I cannot bear to loose his touch now.

My nod is all he needs, as his fingers trace firmer patterns beneath my shirt, one hand moving to unbutton it at the front; warm, wet kisses following the path of my body, resting here to enclose a nipple, there to dip into the small hollow of my navel. My body is shaking with desire, I can feel it, and I know he does, but I dare not ask for more, dare not break this silence around us, though I long so much to say his name.

One of his hands is now steadying my left leg, as to keep me from moving it too much; the other is hesitant, trembling above the rim of my pants. My trousers I had shed earlier, Remus had ripped open the leg as to tend to my wound, and they were stained with blood.

'Remus...' I know not whether I spoke this aloud or only in my thoughts, but it seems that Remus has reached a decision, as he carefully removes the garment between his touch and my skin.

I can but hold my breath at this forbidden pleasure, as I first feel his lips upon my swollen flesh, kissing their way from the base to the crown, just where the vein takes it's course to the tip.

'Guilty.' The thought lies heavily upon my mind as I permit his touch, as I find I am unable to stop him. 'Selfish.' But I can't, I can't stop him now, as his tongue lazily swirls over the sensitive head and one shaking hand moves to softly trace the small bridge where the testicles connect to the penis, the other still securing my leg. 'More' is the last word I can coherently phrase in my thoughts as he flicks his tongue up and down the small rim between the head and the foreskin, never leaving this path and driving me wild with desire. I dare not open my eyes.

Finally, when I can bear it no more, I move to nudge his head, refraining only at the last second, hands suspended in midair. More, more, more, it becomes a steady mantra in my head, in beat with his movements on my skin.

'Please,' I murmur, breaking the promise I made to myself not to speak, not to ask for more. I cannot bear this tightrope walk any longer, almost painful in its intensity, yet not enough to give me the release I so desperately need. Remus immediately heads to my wish, his lips closing around me, and it takes only a few sucking movements to bring me over the edge.

"Care..." I try to warn him, but he responds only with a final sucking motion, his mouth never leaving my flesh as I explode, stars bursting on the insides of my eyelids.

Finally, it is over, and rational thoughts return to my mind as he softly moves his mouth upwards a final time, his tongue very gently cleaning me of all traces of my orgasm.

More rustling movement, and I can feel soft lips on mine once more, tasting of Remus but also of myself, as my lips part to his tongue's plead for entry. Even as I reach out to touch him I can feel the soft blackness of sleep engulfing me, but his hands gently catch mine in their midst. Ever so gently, he plants a feathery kiss on each of my fingertips, then firmly lays my hand to rest beside me on the ground, and I know, suddenly. Though I can feel his arousal against my thigh, he will not commit this final act, to let himself be pleasured by me. Guilt once more wells to my mind, but his lips are soft on mine, pleading me to understand. And when I place my hand finally on his back, embracing him but not moving, he whispers into my ear.

"Thank you."

Minutes pass as we lie like this, merely breathing, until he finally shifts away to make us more comfortable for the night. But our soft embrace continues.

Daring finally, I open my eyes. The stars are shining brightly above us, I can just see them beneath the roof on the open side of the shed.

Just before I close my eyes to let sleep claim me, I can see a shooting star flaming up as the comet hits the atmosphere.

And as I feel Remus' head come to rest on me shoulder, his arms encircling me, I make a wish.


	8. Eight

Waking up in his arms for the first time in so many years was both heavenly and painful, a bittersweet orchestra of feelings in this symphony of angst. Divine, to feel his skin upon mine, his breath on my cheek, to hear the very soft snores he emitted.

Strange, that I should be the first to wake up. In our years at Hogwart's, Remus had always been a early riser, sometimes thoughtful and introverted as he watched the sun slowly start her pilgrimage to the sky, sometimes energetic and full of spirits - I will never forget the day he, James and Lils had plotted to wake 'sleeps like a log Sirius' as they had phrased it by having Lily crawl into my bed in the early rises of the morning, clad only in knickers and an oversized boys shirt - **my** shirt - after a forbidden night of drinking in our dorm. I was still half asleep while Lily scrambled to get her clothes (spread all around my bed) together, all the while mumbling excuses, James shouting at me in a very genuine seeming jealous rage, and Peter standing there, his mouth agape, not believing the scene he was witnessing.

God, I still remember that awkward moment when I thought I'd ruined my most important friendships all at once. A very cruel prank it had been, but when I'd looked at Remus that morning after they'd confessed, I saw earnestness in his eyes that betrayed his smug grin. This was his revenge - their revenge - for the 'Whomping Willow incident'. Remus had forgiven me at once after that, vowing never to mention it again - but this childish prank was his way of showing me 'I've really forgiven you, Sirius, but if you ever do something stupid like that again, you'll regret it.' And I loved him for it.

So many of these little scenes go through my head every day. Every day I see James, level-headed and calm, the best friend any chap could wish for in his life. Lily, with her tranquil appearance and that wicked sense of humour gleaming from her eyes. I remember Remus as he was then, so warm-hearted and genuinely grateful for every small sign of affection, yet behind all that one of the greatest pranksters Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ever seen. And I remember Peter, a friend back then, a little chubby and awkward, but clever in his own way, and hopelessly devoted to the rest of us. When had that changed? I ask myself this question every single day, as I have for so many years.

I try so desperately to get my life back together as far as that is possible, seeing that I'm still a fugitive from the law. But every now and then I will experience these lapses into the past, memories seeming all the more vivid for the fact that I'd forgotten about them in Azkaban.

And now, a new memory has planted itself into my mind. Remus' lips on mine, warm and soft and moist, and tasting of my own semen. Remus, gazing up at me as his tongue swirls around my heated flesh in languid movements, soon to speed up. Beautiful memories, yet with the same melancholic touch as my memories from Hogwart's. I can think of James again nowadays without at once seeing his dead eyes before me, laughing as we planned a new mischief or threw mock insults at each other, can think of the good times, yet I know they are in the past, never to be revived.

Will this be the way I will think about my night with Remus from now on? A beautiful if somewhat sad memory, never to be experienced again?

For yesterday, when he had kissed my fingertips, not allowing me to touch him after he had sent me over the brink, I had finally realized. It wasn't black or white, him leaving Joyle to be with me or leaving me to be with her. It was his ultimate dilemma, not being able to leave either of us, yet not willing to become the villain in this game of roulette. Black or Red, a new chance each time. Will it be me? Will it be her? Yet, however we twist and turn, the ball settles on 'nought' every time. And whatever pain and loss we experience, the ultimate victim is Remus, feeling his heart being pulled apart by two strong currents.

That is why I have decided not to let this happen again. That is why, as soon as I am free to go, I will leave their lives. Or at least, that is what I intend to do. That is what I know will be best.

But when I watch him sleep like this, I wonder whether I will be able to. Should he kiss me again, touch my skin with feathery touches, should he whisper into my ear that he wants me to stay, or merely convey it with a look from his eyes - will I really be able to walk away from that, even knowing it is the right thing to do?

And bugger-all, but I can't be certain I will have the strength to do so. What will it be, then? Longing for all times for something I cannot have, watching him each day go to his wife's side in the evening, knowing that she will receive, and, more importantly, be allowed to give what is denied to me? Or, like what we shared last night, forbidden touch and desperate kisses veiled by the dead of night with no one but the moon and the stars to bear witness? Knowing he will return to her, yet accepting his touch, his lips on my skin?

Am I selfish enough to do that, to permit it?

But how should I resist? Do I have the willpower to do that?

I may plan every reaction to every possible situation beforehand, but when the time comes, will I be able to say no when all of my heart and body screams yes?

I can only hope that he will be strong enough not to tempt me again. But is it fair to put this burden on him? Is it not possible that he, too, cannot resist his instincts, his desires? Is it just to make him responsible for anything that may or may not happen?

I wish I could say it was. After all, **he** was the one who married Joyle, and it was **him** who initiated what transpired last night.

Yet in my heart I know that it isn't that easy. When he married Joyle, he made a sincere promise to her, believing I was guilty of murder, believing he would never see me again as I withered away in Azkaban. Then I appear on his doorstep, and instead of the happy reunion of two long-lost friends I burden him with this triangle of love, this impossible situation.

It's not my fault, but neither is it his, or even Joyle's. Hers last of all, actually.

For the first time since hearing that Remus is married, I feel genuine sympathy for her situation. Maybe she will instinctively know what transpired between Remus and I last night, and perhaps she won't. But she knows of the situation itself, and that is bad enough. Is she not more of a victim in this blasted trigonometry than I am? After all, whatever may or may not happen in the future, I know that Remus loves me, and that I love him, and that there is a part of this love that will be forever prevalent, whether we physically act on it or not.

She, however, while knowing that Remus will always return to her side full of sympathy and compassion, while knowing that he will share each night with her in their bed, has to live with the knowledge that he will never truly be hers in soul, as he has been mine and I his before we even knew her. Has to live with the fact that whenever they make love, there is a part of him wanting to be with me. Has to deal with loving him, but knowing that the only reason he is with her and not with me is that the Ministry made a terrible blunder so many years ago.

Of course, there is a part of me wishing for her to realize the situation as it is and leave of her own will. But how could I expect of her what I am unable to do, when her feelings are as strong as mine? Besides, Remus would never forgive himself if she did that, and would I want my friend to suffer through that?

Sure, I would be with him then, but would that make any of us happier than we are now, or less desperate? Even if he does not love her as she loves him he feels strongly for her, and wouldn't her leaving cause just as much heartache to him as if it were me to go? Would he, just because he loves her in another way, not sit in front of the fire at night, wondering where she was and how she was doing? Would he not worry just as much about her as he would about me?

And would I be happy with this, knowing that his mind would go out to her, part of him wishing she had never left, if only to ease the guilt on his soul?

I don't know how the future will progress, and I don't know where I will stand in it, but I do know that there is no outcome that will make all of our hearts less clamped, no solution to this impossible situation the Fates have decided to lay upon us. 

TBC


End file.
